


Pushing daisies

by Littlesumo



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: AU, M/M, Mild Language, Prompt Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-06
Updated: 2016-10-06
Packaged: 2018-08-19 22:15:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8226464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Littlesumo/pseuds/Littlesumo
Summary: Prompt: My buddies and I vandalized your backyard trampling your mini garden in the process. Now I feel really shitty cause you’re really upset about this. Look I’ll help fix it okay just stop with the sad faces. AU





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written for one of the 1001 prompts collected here: http://sarahbellcastiel.tumblr.com/post/114637135896/1001-au-prompts
> 
> This is not beta-read.

 

When Jim wakes up, it's barely dawn. His mouth tastes like ass and his head feels pretty fuzzy. He doesn't remember quite what he had been drinking, but it must have been some hell of a cocktail as he's hallucinating that daisies dangle before his eyes and even after blinking a couple of times, the vision won't go away.

Only when he raises his hand to rub at his face and gets a fist full of those daisies, does he notice that he is not home in his bed. Or any bed at all. At least not the mattress kind. His head is resting in a mount of dirt (which he gets a mouthfull off when he turns his head to look around) and the rest of his body is apparently pillowed on various blooming flowers. That have been thoroughly trampled.

Raising up on his elbows (if he moves too much too quickly he might throw up and he'd rather not) the memories of last night come back more swiftly.

He remembers the various bars they had been to and thrown out of, remembers roaming about the neighbourhood to the complaints of various local residents in their pyjamas, remembers finding the neat rows of flowers with their neat miniature picket fence in someone's front lawn. He also remembers that in their drunken state they laughed about it, thought it a good idea to disturb the order a bit (just like they had done all night) and dance on the flower bed.

Deciding that he doesn't want to be present for the owner of the flowers to wake up and see the disaster, Jim gets up more quickly than is advisable in his state and promptly feels dizzy again. Only a unsteady sidestep and a hand on his elbow prevent him tumbling down again.

Well shit.

“What–?“

The owner of the hand – and mostly likely the flowers – is a handsome tall male with dark hair. That is about all Jim dares to take time to notice before he takes a step back lest the guy start throwing punches in retaliation for his killed flora.

“Did you–“

“Listen, I'm really sorry about your flowers. My buddies and me were really drunk last night. I would pay you for new ones but I don't have any money on me and I don't even know what those are worth. So, sorry? And I promise we'll not come around here again.“

Jim's been steadily inching away from the guy, raising his hands placatingly. The tantrum he's been expecting doesn't seem to be coming though, the guy's rather pale instead of angry-red, standing there with his arms hanging by his side.

“Apology accepted then? Okay, bye!“

And before the guy can decide to get angry after all, Jim turns on his heels and books it. Before he rounds the street corner he looks back though and sees the guy kneeling by the miniature fence, craddling a few limp flower heads. When one hand comes up to his face, Jim doesn't wait to see if he's brushing away tears.

 

~~~

 

His guilty conscience is nagging at Jim for the rest of the day (at least after he sleeps a few more hours and properly sobers up; and chews his friends out for leaving him behind like that). He sees flowers everywhere he goes. In the Starbucks barista's hair, in the dress of the woman crossing the street before his car. In every damn front lawn he passes (or so it seems). It gets so bad that he finds himself in a garden center, browsing the offerings in the late afternoon sun. He stops himself short when he catches himself contemplating a bag of soil, wondering what on earth he's doing here. He should just turn around and leave. The guy didn't call the police when he found him in his garden, doesn't know who he is, where he lives. Won't ever meet him again and ask for retribution.

On the other hand Jim really _is_ sorry about the flowers and while they've called up their fair share of ruckus in the past, he and his friends had never stepped down to vandalism before. It's just not the kind of drunks (people) they are and he again questions his decision to accept strange drinks from strange people.

With a sigh, Jim continues on his way, following a sign saying 'daisies'. Only the flowers in the little pots look nothing like the ones he woke up in, so he looks around for an employee.

“Excuse me, sir?“ An Asian looking man turns around at his approach, smiling encouragingly. “I'm... I _was_ searching for daisies, but those back there look all wrong. Do you have any others?“ “The daisies in the appointed section are all we have on stock. Would you be able to decribe the flowers you're looking for?“

“They looked like daisies to me.“ Jim replies helplessly. “Only a bit taller, and more petals, I think.“

“Gerbera.“

“Huh?“

“I believe what you're looking for might be Gerberas. If you would follow me?“

The employee leads him to another section of the garden center and the flowers he shows him do indeed look more like what Jim destroyed.

He buys two pots, one with petals in a light pink, one a sunny yellow. Even if the guy decides that they're not worth going in the flower bed, they might look nice on a window sill or something.

 

~~~

 

It's the middle of the night when Jim slowly turns into a familiar street and parks a few houses down from the one that is his goal. He decided that he definitely doesn't want to meet the guy again and that late at night when everyone should be in bed, even on a weekend, was his safest bet.

What he didn't count on was that the guy might be in a profession that works late nights. Like a nurse or doctor. Because that's him, standing right behind Jim in crumpled scrubs, nearly giving Jim a heart attack.

The guy looks surprised as well and a tiny bit angry when he seems to recognise Jim; mostly tired though.

“Um...“ Jim points behind him to the front steps where he put the two pots, one with a card stuck to it that simply reads 'Sorry.'

“I probably cannot make up for what I did, but I'd thought I'd at least say sorry.“

“In the middle of the night?“

“Well...“

“You're an asshole.“ The guy trudges past Jim, leaving him a bit speechless at the casual insult and dismissal.

Only it's not a dismissal at all, as the guy only puts his messenger bag inside the door, then comes back out again to grab the Gerberas. He doesn't say anything but Jim follows him down the front lawn at his chin jerk.

“The asshole's name is Jim.“

“I didn't expect you to come back.“

“I didn't either.“

The flower bed has been tidied up, noticable gaps where non-salvageable plants have been removed. Some of the others still have leaves and smaller stems bent.

“I planted that garden with my little girl.“ The guy's voice has dropped low and is so full of sorrow that Jim takes a sharp breath. Oh shit oh shit oh shit, something happend to the guy's daughter and he took away the (possibly) last memory of her.

“Oh god, I– I–“

“She's not dead. I just don't see her often.“ Guy bends down and places the pots in one of the bigger gaps. His voice hasn't changed much, apparently a whole story of pain behind that simple sentence. Not that Jim cares.

Ah fuck, who is he kidding? He wouldn't have come back if he didn't care. And looking at the guy's face now, illuminated by the street lamp, his initial assessment of a handsome man confirmed, he gets an inkling of why that may be.

“My name is Leonard. You, asshole Jim, will let me sleep till noon. Then you'll be back here for coffee and some breakfast and will help me plant a new garden. After that, consider your apology accepted.“

Jim can accept those terms. He does so with a grin and a handshake. And if his fingers linger a bit longer on Leonard's than strictly necessary, well, Leonard doesn't draw back his hand any quicker either.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is just a 'bonus' chapter, so pretty short.

Leonard isn't sure if he dreamed last night, but then shortly after noon, his door bell rings and there Jim is.

Asshole Jim, with the brightest, bluest eyes Len has ever seen on anyone. If he'd had noticed those eyes before, he probably wouldn't have sent Jim home last night. Reckless as that might have been, Len _had_ noticed the guy's overall attractiveness (golden hair, slim shape, cocky grin) and it's been quite a while since he last got laid.

Jim is holding a bag from the diner a few blocks down, and Len ushers him inside. Breakfast is a mostly silent afair. Len is not quite awake yet (never before his third cup of coffee) and Jim obviously a bit uncomfortable in a stranger's house, leaning against the counter and looking around.

„While I do know quite a few ways to kill you quickly or messily, I won't. Relax.“

Jim looks at him surprised. „More worried about you punshing my face after all. I'm too pretty for a black eye.“

Leonard snorts, but doesn't comment.

„Although I'm sure I could take you on.“

„Oh?“ Len raises one eyebrow, then slowly, deliberately stands up and steps close to Jim. They're pretty much the same height, though Len is broader in the shoulders and chest. He'd like Jim taking him on alright, his skin is prickling at their proximity. „Don't underestimate a doctor.“

Without waiting for Jim's reaction he steps back. „Finish yor coffee, we have work to do.“

 

~~~

 

It takes them the better part of the day to finish with the new garden, interrupted only by lunch break.

When they're done, Jim has dirt streaked down one cheek and his forehead. It's oddly endearing.

They're sitting on the front steps with a cold bottle of beer each. Len wonders if he should send Jim on his way now or if he could find an excuse to keep him longer.

„I never knew gardening could be so much fun.“

He looks at Jim.

„Yeah?“

„Yeah. Might be that it's just the company I enjoyed though.“

So it's not just Len and he probably doesn't need to find an excuse to make Jim stay. Although his kiss is pretty convincing in any case, if he might say so himself.

 

 


End file.
